


Beatles Oneshots (REQUESTS)

by PaulsLemons (orphan_account)



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Oneshot, Sexual Content, oneshot requests
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-03-07 22:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18882430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/PaulsLemons
Summary: So basically when I’m unable to figure out what to write for my current Beatles fanfiction and I get stuck, I’ll write oneshots in the middle of it.I’ll be taking requests for them!! QwQ





	1. Chapter 1

So, this is where you request a oneshot you want.

I will do: smut, fluff, angst, kinks, etc.

I will not do: fetish related stuff

Ok ty I hope to get requests because I need a break after writing a huge ass chapter

Also, PLEASE ONLY REQUEST ON THIS CHAPTER. Do not put your request anywhere else.


	2. Kisses (Angst)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by legalcapabilities!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it qwq

Martha sniffed at Paul’s face, her wet nose brushing against his skin. She ran her tongue along his mouth and nose. Paul could only smile at her as he weakly pet her, tears running down his face. He planted a kiss on her fluffy head before lying down with her.

It was hard when a pet was on its way to Heaven. You’d never be able to see or feel them again until your day arrived. You’d never hear their sounds again, and you’d never wake up to them on top of you and giving you morning kisses.

It was hard for Paul, of course. He knew she was old, and that it was her time to go. But like many others, he didn’t want that at all. He wanted her to stay with him forever. He wanted her to stay alive, to outlive him.

Obviously, this wasn’t the case, and it never would be.

He hugged her tight, not wanting to let go. Her tail weakly wagged, and her big head was beneath his chin. She lapped away at the salty tears that escaped from Paul’s eyes. She couldn’t have made his cheeks any wetter.

A shaky hand reached up to move the fur away from Martha’s eyes, and beneath were those half-closed eyes of hers. He just stared into those eyes that were once full of life, and only a spark was left. Everything had seemed to vanish.

“Stay with me a while, okay, Martha dear?”

Lick.

“Please?”

Lick.

“I love you.”

Lick.

He smiled, “Listen Martha dear, stay longer, please. Try. Try to, luv. For me, please. I don’t know what I’d be able to do if you weren’t here.”

The more he spoke, the faster the tears came. His own words were breaking Paul even more than he already was. He could only hold her and comfort her. There was nothing else he could do for her.

He kissed her gently, sniffling. He closed his eyes, wishing to sleep next to her, wanting to be there for her when she passed on.

All Paul wanted to reminisce about was the happy times he shared with Martha. The times they played, the times they went places together, just happy memories to replace the sad moment they shared in the present.

“Martha, please promise me you’ll always be by my side, that you’ll never leave...”

Lick.

Paul only sobbed softly before kissing her once more.

A dog was a man’s best friend, and a man was a dog’s. Best friends would always be there for one another. Martha was always there for Paul when he was down, and now, it was Paul’s turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh this made me tear up while writing it 😬


	3. P.S. I Love You (ANGST)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains abusive/sexual content. Please do not read if you do not enjoy that.
> 
> Requested by AnAnonymousMan

 

It hadn’t been long since John left. But, it hadn’t been long since Paul began to feel forlorn. When John announced he was leaving, he couldn’t handle it. He didn’t want to lose his best friend, the one he really loved long ago.

 

Paul and John had a rough relationship. John would often hit and smack Paul, most of the time for nothing at all, it was just when John was angered, and he took it all out on Paul.

 

Paul assumed he had done something wrong to John. He thought he deserved every smack and every impact of a fist that came, leaving his body decorated with bruises and red marks. The signs of a failing love.

 

Every night, Paul was always beneath John. It hurt so bad, but Paul knew it was something John needed. It was something John craved. It was the only way to soothe his anger, and Paul allowed him to take advantage of him and use his body however he desired.

 

_“J-John! Ah!”_

 

_“What, whore?”_

_A whimper escaped from him, “It hur...”_

_A bite to the neck. “It what?”_

_John doesn’t like hearing that, Paul. Don’t you remember?_

_“It f-f-feels good...so good...”_

_Throb. Throb. Throb._

_“Tell me how much you love my cock...”_

_“Oh! I love your cock so much, Johnny!”_

_“Good whore.”_

_There were sudden grunts against Paul’s neck._

_Throb. Throb. Throb._

_“J-Johnny...”_

 

Paul swallowed hard as he sat on the side of his bed. All he did was just stare at the ghostly cracked wall as memories plagued his weakened mind. He knew what he was going to do, but he kept on contemplating it. His hands lie upon his knees, the rough fabric of his pants rubbing up against his tired legs. He hadn’t noticed, but the backs of his hands were soaked in his tears.

 

His eyes hurt. They were red and puffy along with visibly noticeable bags beneath them. His vision was blurry, but he didn’t give a damn. The blazing hot sun’s rays beamed down onto his pale and thin face, making him feel warm. It felt real nice, but it didn’t make him feel any better. His eyes shifted towards the window, and he twitched a little as the sun hit him in those beautiful doe eyes of his.

 

The curtains were opened up, allowing him a splendid view of the outside world. The luscious green, prickly grass gently blowing in the soft breeze, the clear blue sky full of birds happily singing together…

Something Paul wished he could do with John again.

 

The bad memories were towering over the good in his head. He remembered how he and John played in a pool together, splashing water onto one another. But, a bad memory pushed it away, and all he thought about was John hitting him and calling him names.

 

Why was it like that?

 

Why was he always thinking about being hurt? What was the point? Why had John called him those things?

 

_“J-John…”_

_“You filthy slut!”_

_“P-Please, I-I’m sorry.”_

_“SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING WHORE!”_

_All he could feel was a stinging pain on his face. A smack._

_“I-I didn’t mean to!”_

_“YOU SLEPT WITH ANOTHER FUCKING MAN, PAUL! YOU FUCKING EXPECT ME TO ACCEPT YOUR APOLOGY?!”_

_“Please! I’ll do anything, Johnny! Anything to make it up to you! I had too much to drink!”_

_A hand around his throat._

_“Then fucking show me how sorry you are…”_

_The hand let go._

_The sound of a zipper coming undone._

_On his knees, closing his eyes. His face damp._

 

Paul shuddered, gripping onto his pant legs. Maybe that was why John hit him.

 

Because he lie with another man.

 

Paul hadn’t meant to. He was drunk at that club, his mind drugged by the alcohol. A man had approached him while he was intoxicated. What they had done that night was all unintentional. Paul had somebody inside him for the first time in his life that wasn’t John. He remembered how good it felt, that was all he could remember. No, it didn’t feel good to fuck someone that wasn’t John, but it felt good sexually. The man was gentler than John was during sex.

 

Actually, there was only one time where John was gentle. That was their first time. John allowed him to adjust to the feeling of someone inside him for the first time.

 

That was when John really loved him. John always said he loved him, but Paul was beginning to doubt that was even the truth. Was all that violence even out of love?

 

_“I’ll always love you, Paulie. You’re my everything…”_

 

**No.**

 

_“You’re so pretty, Paul. I hope one day we can marry, and then we’ll be together for the rest of eternity.”_

 

**Stop.**

 

_“The stars may be pretty, but they’re not as pretty as you are.”_

 

**_Stop it._ **

 

_“So beautiful…my Paulie McCartney…”_

 

**_Please stop it._ **

 

_“You looked so gorgeous on stage, darling. I love you.”_

 

**_STOP IT!_ **

 

Paul slammed his fist down onto something hard. He opened his eyes, and there he was: at a table with George and Ringo. Paul looked at them, their stares bore deep into his soul. He looked down at the table, shot-glasses for each man. A beer bottle stood before all three right in the center of the table, sparkling in the light.

 

Ringo was the first to speak, “You alright, Paul?”

 

Paul pulled at his collar as heat from embarrassment began to build up beneath it. “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

 

“You sure? You’re looking rather shaken up, and you just slammed your fist down.” said George.

 

He nodded again, “Sorry, I was just thinking about something.”

 

“What was it?” Ringo asked, reaching over for the beer bottle.

 

Paul tried to think of an excuse, “Oh, well, Martha dear shit on the floor this morning, and I’m still a little pissed about it.”

 

George and Ringo chuckled in unison, and George said, “Well, what would you expect from a dog? They’re always shittin’ everywhere.”

 

“You know how people say that dogs are a man’s best friend? I’ve never heard of a best friend shitting on ya floor.” Ringo added.

 

Paul cleared his throat. “Hey guys, I want to tell you something.”

 

They looked back at him, “Yeah?” they said at the same time.

 

“I’m going to be leaving soon.”

 

“Are you travelling?” George asked.

 

“I guess.”

 

“To where?”

 

“To see my mother.”

 

“Oh…I’m sorry, Paul. It’s nice to visit your mother’s burial spot.”

 

Paul’s grip on his pant leg tightened. “I love you guys, don’t forget that ever.”

 

”We love you too, Paul.”

 

Paul remembered that conversation like it was yesterday. It only happened two days ago. He ran a hand through his ragged, fluffed up hair. All he’d done in his bedroom is squander away at useless memories. He slowly got up from the bed, approaching the window and gently grabbing onto the curtains, gingerly closing them. The room seemed darker now, and that was what Paul wanted. He didn’t want anyone to see him.

 

John meant a lot to him. He loved John, but he didn’t know the status of John’s love for him. They had always been close.

 

Paul looked at the picture on his nightstand. It was of the four of them, looking so happy together. They looked young and wild; the picture had been taken back in 1963. He remembered the good old days with the band. He picked the picture up, gently stroking over his band-mates’ faces. When he got to John, he felt his heart break a little. John looked so enthusiastic, a big, goofy grin on his face. He moved his finger over John’s face, missing that funny grin, the grin that brought joy to everyone. He got up again, moving towards the old record player he had.

 

He picked up the Please Please Me vinyl he had. He began to play it on the record player, switching right to P.S. I Love You. He stared at the cover for the vinyl, feeling a lump form in his throat that he quickly swallowed. He placed it right against the record player before returning to his bed and sitting right down on the side of it. He set the note down right next to the photograph of him and his friends.

 

He looked at the photo one last time before turning right back to the cracked, decaying wall of his bedroom.

 

He picked it up, putting it right to his head.

 

He was gone in a flash.

 

 _As I write this letter, send my love to you_  
_Remember that I'll always be in love with you_  
 _Treasure these few words 'til we're together_  
 _Keep all my love forever_  
 _P.S. I love you, you, you, you_


End file.
